


Glory and Gore

by mohawke



Series: Golden [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Cat being stupid and always trying to act like everything is fine, Cullen being an anxious husband, F/M, Some Solas hate, Somewhat gross descriptions of her arm, That's it, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mohawke/pseuds/mohawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting is always the worst. Not knowing if or when she's coming back. The feeling of powerlessness is overwhelming as he wonders "What if she doesn't come back to him this time?"</p><p>The moments between Cat  Trevelyan-Rutherford's (!) return and the end of the exalted council. Screw what Weekes says happened. </p><p>Warning: Slightly gory descriptions of her arm/hand post Solas. I mean it's really not that bad but if you throw up or something I'm not to blame.</p><p>But seriously, unless you have a seriously weak stomach you should be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory and Gore

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired partly by the incredible concept art (definitely a bit gruesome, consider yourself warned) and third degree burns.
> 
> http://unidentifiedspoon.tumblr.com/post/133487154558/my-interpretation-of-wtf-was-up-with-the-mark
> 
> THE THINGS I DO FOR LOVE.

Time seems to stand still as they wait. Everyone is back...except her. The Inquisitor, his _wife_. Nobody seems to know what happened. She stepped through the Eluvian and then nothing. So now they wait. 

The waiting is the worst. Pacing back and forth, hand rubbing the back of his neck. The room is silent, not even a word from Cole. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s—no. She’s survived too much to have _this_ be her end. She _WILL_ come back, she has to. 

He prays silently as he paces, begging the Maker or _anybody_ to bring her home. He can’t lose her, not after everything they’ve been through. There’s a faint hum and his head jerks towards the Eluvian. Everyone is inching towards it. It has to be her. Who else would it be? He sees the familiar toe of her boots, her leg. _Thank the Maker, she’s alive_. 

He all but pushes Bull and Cassandra out of the way. Maker’s breath. Her arm. She looks up at him, pain etched clearly across her face. The rest is a blur as he catches her in his arms. She’s slipped out of consciousness, breathing slow and shallow. 

It’s a grisly sight, the mangled flesh of her hand. Much of it is burned away where the anchor used to be. Jagged lines canvas the pale skin of her arm, revealing the charred tissue and the briefest hint of bone. They've already sent for a healer. Cullen watches numbly as he examines her. 

The limb is too far gone and if they leave it the corruption will spread. _That’s her sword arm_. The thought should be the _last_ thing on his mind but it springs up unbidden. She’d once told him that the day her father got her that first sword was one of the happiest days of her life. She loved the way the steel felt in her hand, the way the metal sings as it meets an oncoming blow. What if she never gets to hear that sound again? The thought gnaws at him as he clasps her right hand between both of his. 

It’s a grim procedure, the healer working silently as he watches, tracing circles with his thumb against her hand. _Maker’s breath_. Her skin is cold and he feels like he’s been sent back to that night in the Frostbacks, back to the first time she stumbled into his arms. He remembers the fear he felt, the dread eating away at him as he waited. 

At first he shrugged it off as friendly concern. Cassandra refused to let him go and look for her and that feeling of helplessness had clawed at him as he paced restlessly. When he saw her stagger weakly towards them he’d been half afraid it was his mind playing tricks on him. He’d been the first to run towards her, wrapping her in his cloak as he carried her to their camp. Looking back, he knows he was already falling for the woman who fell from the fade. _Andraste preserve him, he needs her._

He doesn’t leave her side, even after Dorian and Cassandra offer to watch over her so he can rest. As if he could sleep after all this. Somehow he nods off though, early in the morning. Her voice, groggy and soft jerks him awake. “Cat?” She tries to push herself up with her left arm, or what used to be her left arm. The shock hits her then, eyes wide as she tries to process everything. 

The words that tumble from her lips leave him reeling. “Where’s Solas?” She’s already thinking about what comes next. Always has to be strong, forever trying to let everything roll off her back. It’s baffling and infuriating. It's also one of the reasons he fell for her so quickly.

“Sweet Maker Cat. For once let it be about _you_.” He can hear the way his voice wavers as he pleads with her. “I thought I was going to lose you.” She’s looking at him with those storm grey eyes, the ones he vowed to spend the rest of his life looking into. “Just let it go. Just for now.” 

The sudden burst of energy fades quickly and she sinks back down onto the bed, inhaling shakily. He’s not sure what to say. What do you say to someone who’s given up years of their life for a cause? Someone who has been thrown into danger at every turn and been willing to sacrifice her life for those around her? She’d taken up the mantle of Inquisitor not for _power_ and _glory_. She did it because it had been the _right thing_. She didn’t have to do it, yet through all the doubt and uncertainty arose a leader. 

“When can I meet the council?” she asks and he just stares at her, absolutely dumbfounded. Nothing seems to faze her. He’s not sure whether she’s in shock or simply trying to keep up that strong front she puts on. 

“Cat—” he trails off. He knows she won’t listen. She’s too stubborn, too headstrong. Cullen lets out a weary sigh. “Tomorrow morning.” Once this is over he never wants to set foot in this blighted place again. Hang the _Orlesians_ and hang the Fereldan ambassador as well. After all they’ve sacrificed to keep Thedas from falling apart they have the nerve to act as if she’s some power hungry madwoman. They don’t deserve a minute of her time. 

“What do you think should happen?” she asks and he honestly doesn’t know. The Inquisition has been his life for the past 4 and a half years...but what use are they if they are a pawn in Orlais’ game? 

“I don’t know. It’s up to you, Cat.” She frowns, letting out a soft sigh. 

“Isn’t it always…” His heart aches for her. She seems defeated and weary, a stark contrast from the vibrant woman of just a few days ago. Whatever happened while she was in the ruins hit her hard and he feels utterly useless. 

“What happened, with Solas?” he asks tentatively. He’s certain whatever it was it can’t be good. After he disappeared they’d tried to track him down. For all their efforts he was untraceable, a ghost. None of them had thought much of it at the time but clearly more was going on than they knew.

“Everything that happened was set in motion by him. The orb, my mark, the Qunari plot. All of it. He’s a fucking elven _God_ , Cullen. He was going to use the orb to tear down the veil. The veil _HE_ created” she let’s out a scoff “and he plans on doing it again, ripping the veil down to restore what was lost. We’ll just be unfortunate casualties in his madness.” 

It seems completely mad yet why would she lie about it? There’s no reason _not_ to believe her, despite the absolute inconceivability of it all. “Maker’s breath.” He knows that no matter what she decides, they’ll somehow be tangled up in _“fixing”_ things once again. 

“He’s had spies within the Inquisition. I don’t know who to trust anymore. Every turn there could be an "agent of Fen’Harel" watching as we try to find him and put an end to it.” He can't help but wonder whether they could have done more, found out sooner that he had spies among the Inquisition.

“Whatever happens, we’ll stop him Cat.”


End file.
